


If you ever change your mind about leaving.

by roma_nova



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anger, Angst, Belonging, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, F/M, Family, I mean, Inspired by Canon, Inspired by Fanfiction, It’s an alternate Gamora, Lots of Arguing, Marvel Universe, Minor Violence, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Guardians of the Galaxy (2014), Rejection, Slow Burn, Sort Of, This is a kind of fic I’ve seen a lot and really wanted to do, Vormir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24003376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roma_nova/pseuds/roma_nova
Summary: The loneliness was somewhat manageable when he was awake, surrounded by what was left of his family. Sometimes it was possible to laugh for a brief moment at a clueless comment from Drax, or an articulate jab from Rocket, but as laughing filled the room, his eyes would land on the empty seat nobody ever dared sit in.It’s why he didn’t sleep much anymore, because he never felt as lonely when he was staring at that untouched side of the bed.~~~~ One year after the events of Endgame, Gamora is struggling to find a reason to keep going in a universe she doesn’t belong to, and is on a war path to vent her rage through violence. The Guardians have not being doing well either, spending the last year failing to find Gamora, but Peter takes it the worst. Until one day, he decides to move on - and tried to come to terms that the woman he loves is gone forever.AKA the post endgame fic you’ve probably seen before, starmora is one of my top ships. I’ve read a load of fics exploring the idea of an alternate timeline Gamora in the mainstream universe and I wanted to try for myself. Inspired by many talented fanfic authors and my hopes for what they do in Vol 3.
Relationships: Gamora/Peter Quill
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The worlds worst’s fic updater is back, and hopefully will get around to updating my other ones soon. I’ve wanted to do this one since Endgame came out honestly, but became inspired after reading a lot of these ones, on literally every conceivable fanfiction site. If you’re looking for fluff you are in the wrong place my friend, at least not yet anyways, because this will mostly be centred around angst, and doing things differently (and not exactly for the better) this time around when it comes to starmora.

You had a life here.

No, no she didn’t. There was a version of Gamora, one that belonged to this time who had a life here - but it wasn’t her. The Gamora who stood alone on some backwater planet in the deepest and loneliest part of the galaxy was one thrown nine years ahead into a world she didn’t know.

In this one, Thanos was dead, but more importantly so was she. In this world, Nebula considered her a sister rather than the enemy. In this world, Gamora had a family. 

After the battle on the semi-primitive Terra, Gamora disappeared, away from the people who seemed to know her as well as she knew herself. As she parted with Nebula on the battlefield, the two sisters gave each other a knowing look, the dust of their former allies clouding the sky above them.

“You could stay.” Nebula had said, her black eyes twitching as she met her sister’s ones, her bionic arm reflecting the fires burning around them - she didn’t have that in Gamora’s own time.

“You know I can’t. You told me who these people are, who he was, but the Gamora they know isn’t me. My place isn’t with them, they’re strangers to me.” Gamora had slid Godslayer back into her belt, her heart telling her to stay with Nebula, to finally see her as a sister - but Gamora wasn’t emotional, or led so easily by her wants and needs, but by logic. 

Gamora didn’t know what the universe had in store for her next, but it wasn’t right for her to join this group of people who she didn’t know - but who knew her so well. She had ended up on some planet out of reach from the nearest Nova Corps outpost, and one she didn’t know the name of. For the first time in her life she didn’t have anywhere to belong, even with Thanos she had a place, but now she was free - yet it didn’t feel right. She felt robbed of driving the blade of Godslayer through his heart, to watch the blood pour down his body as the life faded from his eyes. 

Gamora turned, pulling the hood she wore up as she walked through a forest of glowing trees, the bluish hue was dull, but was enough to light the path to the makeshift camp she’d set up. She was hungry, cold and exhausted. Her legs screamed for attention, for rest, as she finally reached the dying fire she had set up already. Gamora sat on the ground, her legs crossed as she arched her back forward, hunching over in the bitter coldness of the forest. Yet she didn’t regret turning down Nebula’s offer of joining her. Gamora couldn’t stand the way they had looked at her, the alien touch of that Terran - Quill - on her face, or the way his friends looked at her like a ghost as she caught them staring when Quill had pointed to her during the fight. She didn’t know them, and didn’t give a damn if they knew her. 

For over twenty years her life had been about survival, and despite her newfound freedom - that hadn’t changed. Gamora would make her own way through the galaxy, living as she wanted. Unfound, unknown and unfeared. In the darkness of the long night, Gamora fell asleep, unpeacefully so, unsure of her own fate.

ONE YEAR LATER

It’s been a year. One whole year since half the universe snapped back into existence, and a year since he lost her. At first, Peter didn’t know what the hell was going on, but in fairness he didn’t know what was going on a lot of the time anyways. He remembers a blind rage fuelled by the feeling like his entire world fell out from underneath him.

“What does this monster have to mourn?!”

“Gamora..”

In the four years he had spent with her, even through the danger they lived through - he never imagined losing her, it never crossed his mind - that he would actually lose her forever. But even then, he couldn’t believe Thanos, he had to be lying - he had to. Gamora, his Gamora couldn’t be dead. It ripped him apart to think the last she ever saw of him was his blaster aimed at her face, his hand shaking uncontrollably as he pulled the trigger. 

And then of course, he watched as Mantis, who he had grown to consider a sister, turned to dust in his arms - followed by Drax, and then himself. That was a weird day. 

The next thing he recalls is waking up in the exact same position he was in the moment he died, exhaling the breath he inhaled just as he turned to dust. Everything seemed the same, aside from the absence of the Benatar, Nebula and Tony. 

The next thing he knew after that, was he was standing on the ground of his homeplanet he hadn’t seen in a long time, fighting a war five years in the making, apparently. They were all there, side by side, but Gamora wasn’t there - until she was. For him it had barely been an hour, but he was stricken with a heart wrenching pang in his chest as his mask dissolved back into itself to let bare eyes rest on her. As his hand reached out to make shaky contact with her cheek, he was yet again reminded of just how strong she was, as she wrenched his hand back and glared at him intensely - before kneeing him twice right where it hurt. 

To say he hadn’t ever been more confused was an understatement - and as he lay groaning on the ground, he came to the devastating conclusion that she wasn’t his girl anymore - or rather, she never had been.

When the battle died down, and the army had turned to dust just as he had once, his chest constricted with a blind panic as Gamora disappeared from sight. If there was a God, which Peter had vehemently denied the existence of, he prayed with all the will he had that she hadn’t gone with them. He wouldn’t lose her again, regardless of how many times she slammed her knee into his nuts.

After everyone had kneeled around the body of Stark, the man he had met on Titan - and couldn’t deny he had an immense amount of respect for - Nebula had told him of Gamora’s decision to leave, which she said with a voice dripping in regret. In that moment, Peter didn’t focus on the fact she had left them, he didn’t care, all he took from that was Gamora is alive. She’s here, and she’s alive.

But one year since, and it had been a year of following false leads of her whereabouts, strongly objecting Nebula’s insistence that searching was futile, that Gamora would be found when she wanted to be found. But the luphomoid was forgetting one very key factor, and that was the fact that Peter was undeniably love’s bitch - and leaving Gamora alone in a galaxy she didn’t know was not an option for him.

“I am Groot.” The young Flora colossus complained as he stood over Rocket, holding a tool box - separated from his game console.

“Quit whining, you can go back to your flarkin’ game when I’ve fixed the dumbass navigation system that’s been broken for two weeks!” Rocket gestured wildly whilst pulling wires from a small compartment in the floor, “No thanks to lover boy over there.” He jabbed a paw towards Quill, who sat slumped in the frontmost seat of the ship, headphones on and music blaring.

Groot’s lined face settled into a discontented expression as he rolled his eyes, “I am Groot.” His sarcastic response was quickly answered by the newest addition to the team, Thor, who made his way up to the seats up front, a drink in each hand, “Tree, the rabbit is teaching you skills that will prove most beneficial to you in the future.” His sentence finished with a loud belch as he fell into the seat beside Quill - her seat. 

He hadn’t changed much - physically - in the year since he’d joined the team, if anything, he had gained even more weight. A topic of conversation which was frequently brought up by Drax, who found it entertaining to point out that Thor was resembling Quill. Thor held out a bottle to Quill, who shook his head dismissively, which the Asgardian understood with no further prompting and took a large swig of the drink, “Uh - where to?” He made small talk. Peter hated that.

“Another lead, it’s credible, I think it might be her this time.” Peter removed the headphones, putting them around his neck as he took the ship off of the autopilot, which sent a slight shockwave through it, earning a yell from Rocket. He wanted something to focus on, rather than mindlessly running through scenarios in his head. 

Rocket appeared behind him in seconds, “As credible as the leads we’ve had for the last year? Guess what, Quill, we’re no closer to finding her because - Oh yeah! She isn’t Gamora and she doesn't know us, and she don’t wanna be found.” Rocket reasoned with viciousness in his voice, in some ways, Peter understood why. For Rocket it had been five years, he had time to come to terms with her death, with them all, to just undo all of that was taking its toll.

Despite the fact he understood where Rocket’s spite was coming from, he threw him a disgruntled look, “Last I checked, she is Gamora, and I’m not giving up on her because she isn’t dead.”

The lead, as it turned out, was false. Or rather when they arrived they discovered that the message was sent out a week prior to the Benatar receiving it, meaning that Gamora most likely had been here - but within the week it had been sent in she was gone. Peter couldn’t exactly describe the way he felt anymore, every let down and false lead he couldn’t look the Guardians in the eyes, to watch their pitiful and sorrowful looks as they trudged back to the ship to continue their fruitless endeavour. She was out there, he knew it, and he was so sure that somehow he could convince her to come with him if he were just given the chance. 

In some ways, he thought that if this Gamora wasn’t here, it would be easier, to just work on moving on with his life without her, but he was fooling himself. Peter’s life wasn’t his without her, he needed her like his lungs needed oxygen - since she’s been gone he can’t breathe, or sleep. The songs he would clumsily dance with her to on a quiet ship when the others were passed out carved craters into his heart and soul, every time he shut his eyes he saw hers. The tears brimming as Thanos held her by the neck, forcing her towards the blaster. He couldn’t save her, he was too weak, it was never more evident that Peter was never good enough for Gamora. 

But the loneliness was somewhat manageable when he was awake, surrounded by what was left of his family. Sometimes it was possible to laugh for a brief moment at a clueless comment from Drax, or an articulate jab from Rocket, but as laughing filled the room, his eyes would land on the empty seat nobody ever dared sit in.

It’s why he didn’t sleep much anymore, because he never felt as lonely when he was staring at that untouched side of the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Gamora had only ever had one home, Zen - Whoberi, and she hadn’t been back in over twenty years. Since her abrupt liberation from Thanos, Gamora had lived freely in the galaxy, acquiring her own ship after a bloody encounter with scumbag followers of Thanos, and roamed the stars in it ever since. Loneliness was irrelevant to her, though she found herself wondering about the other Gamora often, she couldn’t understand how she would let herself parade around with dishonourable thieves and criminals, but then again, it was better than murderous Titans. 

She discovered that the Guardians of the Galaxy were a known name on planet to planet, a few even recognised her face, and told stories of how the rest of the team did nothing but search for her now. Gamora supposed they gave them tips when they saw her, that’s why she never stayed in one place for more than a day or so. Early on, she vowed she’d find herself a new purpose, another goal to strive towards rather than intergalactic conquest. Her mind settled on ridding the galaxy of anyone who dared utter Thanos’ name in admiration - she knew where to find them, and left no survivors.

But lately, she hadn’t found anyone. Surely she couldn’t have killed them all, the ones that were left after the battle on Terra anyways. But Gamora had the patience of a warrior, so she would bide her time, let whoever was hiding think it was safe, and then she’d rain hell on them. In the meantime, she figured she would return to her planet, something she had never dared to do. The massacre that occurred never left her memories, the screams of her people as the Chitauri opened fire on them, the screams of her mother as Gamora was violently wrenched away. Gamora always remembered the coordinates of Zen - Whoberi, and as she typed them into the ship, her finger hovered over the last number. 

She wanted to do this, but didn’t know if she could.

She swallowed hard, tightening her grip on the controls of the ship as she pressed the last number in, it was a few parsecs from where she was now. Gamora set the ship to autopilot, and turned up the shields as precaution before settling back into the seat, her eyelids slowly fluttering shut as she fell into sleep, the steady hum of the ship sending her into an abyss of slumber.

She only awoke when the beeping alert from the ship let her know she was now in orbit. Gamora sat upright, the red ends of her hair falling past her shoulders as she leant forward, a small gasp catching in her chest as she laid eyes on her home.

After a few silent moments, she switched the ship off of autopilot, sending the thrusters forward to lower the ship into the atmosphere. Whatever Gamora had imagined her home to become, it wasn’t this.

It was empty. 

As the ship lowered itself through the sky, Gamora looked with despair for any sign of life. Thanos had always told her that her home was thriving since she left it, that half of the population flourished in the absence of the other. But he lied. 

Gamora slammed her fists against the console as the ship came to land on an overgrown courtyard, her breathing heavy and ragged. Twenty years, twenty years to come back to a graveyard.

Gamora stood up from the pilot’s seat, slamming the button to open the ship’s ramp as she stormed through it. As she stalked down the ramp, she prayed to hear any sounds of life, talking, laughter, crying, anything.  
But there was nothing, just the sounds of Gamora’s quickened breaths as she looked around, the wind blowing her hair into her face. Even dead, everything Thanos did mocked her, his lies about the fate of her people spit in her face. Gamora cursed herself for ever being so foolish and naive to think there was anyone left here. 

A few hours later after mindlessly roaming, She found her way away from the ship, sitting down on a crumbled wall overlooking a valley below, she remembered it fondly. Gamora broke off pieces of the wall around her and threw them down into the valley, watching as they disappeared from sight to fall into the green depths below. It hit her then that this was going to be her life forever, alone in a universe she didn’t belong to, with no way back to her own time. But what would be there for her anyways, the Nebula from her timeline was dead, and she had no interest in finding them. 

At least here there was peace, she was grateful for that. Peace was a foreign concept, it was something Thanos claimed he was fighting for, but you don’t kill and torture your way to ‘peace’, Gamora had never believed his reasoning there. She swung her legs over the wall, standing up to slowly trudge back to the ship, wishing no longer to see this place. That was until a familiar structure caught her eye, the structure Thanos had taken her to when he gifted her a beautiful dagger, completed with intricate design as he murdered half the population behind her. Gamora stopped dead in her tracks, simply staring. She didn’t even notice the welts in her palms as she dug her nails into them. 

What she did notice however, was the distant sonic boom of a ship entering the atmosphere above. Gamora still didn’t move, tilting her head slightly as she tried to guess if it were hostile or not - until she worked it out. The Guardians had followed her here. 

Gamora turned to quickly walk back to her ship, narrowing her eyes as she remembered the route - but she was still a considerable distance away. The second ship landed in the courtyard behind her, the jets of wind shooting out from the engines blew her forward a little, but Gamora kept going, hearing the unmistakable mechanical hum of a ramp lowering.

“Sister.” Nebula’s calm and collected voice rang out over the courtyard, Gamora inclined her head to the side a little, stopping. 

“You should not have followed me here.” The Zehoberei turned, raising her chin a little as she noticed the group standing in the darkened entryway behind Nebula. Gamora’s eyes trailed down to her sister, who took a few slow, tentative steps forward.

“We know what you’ve been doing, eliminating the criminals and murderers of this galaxy is something you don’t have to do alone, Gamora.” Gamora instinctively stepped backwards as Nebula approached her, she said her name with a vulnerability she had never heard in her voice. Her usually expressionless face conveyed a subtle pleading, she wanted her to join them.

“I chose to do it alone, Nebula. Joining you would slow me down, I’ve always been the better combatant.” Gamora spat the words with more spite than she intended, or maybe she did intend it - all she knew is she wanted to be left alone. Nebula’s black eyes shifted, visually disturbed by the hostility of Gamora’s tone, the Zehoberei forgot for a moment her sister knew a completely different Gamora, one considerably less vicious than she. 

“Your words don’t hurt me, sister.” Then Nebula did something Gamora never thought she’d live to see, she offered her her hand. Gamora stared at it, her lips parted slightly, “All I wanted was for you to leave me alone, how did you find me.” Gamora uttered, her brown eyes shifting upwards to peer at Nebula. 

“The Nova Corps have satellites placed in the orbit of nearly every lifeless planet in the galaxy to monitor which ships enter and exit, for conservation reasons. They detected your craft and performed a biometric scan - and found you.” Nebula answered bluntly, if she was anything she was honest.

Gamora scoffed, “So why aren’t the Nova Corps here now?” Gamora raised a sleek, metallic eyebrow. 

“Because they contacted us, they too are aware of our search for you. And given what you’ve been doing lately they didn’t want to send their own officers to their deaths at your sword.” Nebula’s pitch black eyes trailed down to Godslayer, hanging from Gamora’s hip. 

“Well,” Gamora took a step forward, keeping her eyes on her sister, “You can leave, and pass on my commendations to the Nova Corps for keeping my planet safe.” Gamora bit back. As Gamora maintained the piercing stare, she didn’t notice Nebula slowly reaching into her pocket for a sedative, before suddenly kneeing Gamora in the gut, and attempting to drive it into her neck. 

Gamora yelled out in fury, grabbing Nebula’s wrist and forcing it away, kicking her hard in the chest before swinging her other leg into her sister's, knocking her down. Gamora shot an animalistic glare towards the ship behind them before stamping on the sedative on the ground and breaking into a steady and fast run. 

Gamora made a rapid mental map of the route back to the ship, and turned quickly to run up the steps towards a wall, getting ready to leap down onto the rooftops below. As Gamora pumped her arms, gathering momentum to make the jump, she leapt off the side of the wall, but she was knocked to the side with a loud grunt as someone collided with her midair, she fell hard onto the rooftop, rolling down the slope and onto the ground below. She screamed out, looking up at her attacker with wild fury in her eyes.

Quill. She recognised him. He stood on the edge of the rooftop, his hands empty and raised in a surrendered stance, the mask on his face covered the entirety of it, the red eyes stared into her own uncomfortably. Gamora pushed herself to her feet, she’d definitely damaged something, presumably from the fall caused by this imbecile. 

His hand slowly moved to the side of his head, the mask retracting in on itself. Gamora removed Godslayer from her hip, and raised it in front of her. Quill simply stared at her, his lips moving subtly in a silent whisper, “Gamora.” She could have sworn he was about to cry.

Gamora broke out into another run, before ducking her head as blast fire shot into the large crumbling pillars beside her, causing them to fall right in front of her. She skidded to a stop, falling onto her side. Her eyes burned holes into Quill as he flew towards her, coming to his own messy landing just several feet from her. 

He removed the mask again and quickly holstered his blasters, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do that-“ 

He was cut off with a sharp yelp as Gamora swung Godslayer in a steady arch inches from his neck, she ran at him, throwing the sword aside - she wasn’t going to kill him. The assassin threw a perfectly calculated right hook to his jaw, sending him stumbling, but to her surprise - he didn’t counter it. Gamora wasn’t going to let up, although she wasn’t going to kill him she wanted to teach him a lesson.

Gamora spun in place, kicking him hard in the chest, before running at his still frame to dropkick him to the ground, Gamora flipped herself upwards, catching her breath. She stood over Quill, and pressed her boot onto the base of his throat, he uncomfortably shifted under it, his eyes looking up into hers with a disgusting amount of - well, not hatred. To him, he wasn’t looking into the eyes of the enemy.

“Fight back.” She seethed, removing her boot and circling him, wanting him to hurt her, or try to. 

Peter sat up, his eyes still fixated on Gamora, “I’m - I’m not going to hurt you.” He shook his head, his face the epitome of defeat. She tilted her head, scrutinising him through her stares. She knew the Gamora in this universe was in love with him, as Nebula had told her, and he was in love with her, but the very thought sickened Gamora to her core. Love was such a pathetic emotion she would never and could never succumb to. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” Gamora spat, the way he looked at her sent chills down her spine, and her hair stood on end, “Like I’m her.”

Quill said nothing for a moment, his bottom lip quivering slightly before he bit it, stilling it. His eyes shifted painfully, “You are her.” He insisted, his voice wavering, as if he wasn’t quite sure.

“No, I’m not.” Gamora ran forward, delivering a kick to his jaw, sending him slamming back down into the dusty ground beneath him. “I don’t know you, I am not the woman you loved, so stop looking at me like I am.”

Peter said nothing, but rolled onto his front, coughing for air. He knew this Gamora wasn’t his Gamora, but in some ways he didn’t care, he knew the potential she had to become his girl, the one who loved him, took care of him when he drank too much after a drinking challenge with Drax, Rocket and Kraglin, the one who fell asleep in his arms in the dark, her breath warm on his skin. Peter could have been stabbed through the heart with Godslayer at that very moment and it would feel no different to the pain of looking into the eyes of the woman he would gladly give his life for, and for her to reject him.

He got to his feet shakily, spitting blood from his mouth, before turning to her, “Please, don’t do this - I’ve been looking for you for a year, I’m not - I’m not asking for you to be her, to -“ He wanted to say, to love me, but he couldn’t bring himself to, “To do anything, but just come with us, you're not safe on your own, please, baby.” The last word caught in his throat, and he realised the mistake he made. 

Gamora gritted her teeth, the words stung her like venom, and she went to pick up her sword from the ground, only for Quill to start jabbering on again, “You’re angry, and confused. You’re in a world you don’t belong - but - you’re scared, and that’s okay, Gamora. We want to help you, I want to help. You - she - would want me to.” Peter looked at the woman in front of him, she looked exactly like her, of course she did, she was Gamora. But she wasn’t, she was a Gamora that never got to meet him the way he met her. He knew she was lashing out, granted it was never usually this violent, but he knew his girl, and it turned out every version of Gamora lashed out like this too. “I loved her.” The words barely make it past his lips, loved, as in past tense, “And if I don’t help you, I feel like I’m letting her down.” 

Gamora calculated her words, she could do more damage to him with her words than with her sword, “She’s dead, you already let her down by failing to save her.”

Gamora sheathed Godslayer, and delivered one last kick to the face that knocked Quill back down again before Gamora leaped over the fallen pillar, and ran to her ship, the ramp closing behind her as she took off immediately, tears stinging in her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Peter didn’t have many possessions, so packing up what little he did have was so much easier. A year ago he had walked back into his quarters on the Benatar to find the room untouched - dust settled on every surface - Rocket had later drunkenly admitted he couldn’t face going in there, and wouldn’t let anyone else in either. It had been two days since their encounter with Gamora, two days since she kicked the shit out of him and left him bleeding on the ground, loving her no less. But it wasn’t her, that was what he kept telling himself. It was a sickly feeling deep down in the pits of his stomach that told him again and again that while she has the face of the love of his life, it isn’t her. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to do anymore in regards to finding her. Nebula had told him as they left Gamora’s home world that she was confused, just as Peter had told Gamora herself, that everything she was doing was simply a defence mechanism. It was selfish, this desire to find her, because he wasn’t thinking about what this Gamora wanted, only himself. But even worse than that, he felt as though he was betraying his Gamora. His resolve was to leave for a while, go to Earth, he figured he had a few more loose ends to tie up. 

He zipped up the bag on the bed, and then picked up his jacket from the single lonely chair pressed against the wall, putting it on. Peter hoped that he would be able to sneak off of the ship on the new pod Rocket had found during the five years without a hassle - but much to his dismay, there was always someone awake.

Groot sat curled up in one of the chairs within sight of the door, his fingers pressed away at his console, but his eyes fixated on Peter as he exited the room, the bag strap over his shoulder. Peter hadn’t noticed him, and turned silently to walk towards the door to the escape pod.

“I am Groot?”

Peter froze in his tracks and winced as he turned to face the teenager, who had finally lowered the console. 

“Hey bud, I’m just…” Peter didn’t see the sense in lying, “I’m going away for a while, not for long, but I need to get my head straight.” He tried to smile, but the dull lights of the ship highlighted every sunken hollow in his face, he seemed to have aged decades in one year. 

Groot studied his face, he didn’t seem to show any visual type of confusion or resentment in his face, “I am Groot.” His voice was that of an understanding tone.

“Yeah, I’m glad you understand…” His voice trailed off. His mind flashed back to a memory of a night on the ship when Groot had been younger, he had eaten too much candy and was being violently and constantly sick, and Gamora had sat with him for the whole night, just talking. 

Apparently, Groot understood what he was thinking about by the devastated expression that crossed Peter’s face, “I am Groot.” His voice was so small.

“I miss her too.” 

Peter couldn’t stay a moment longer.

~~~~

The pod detached itself with a jolt that was sure to wake up everyone on board, but Peter would have liked to believe that they were smart enough to stay away. 

He set the course for Earth, and picked up the zune from his pocket, his head back against the headrest as his eyes looked at the screen, scrolling lazily through the selection. He went through an entire sub-playlist before the communicator went off.

With a sigh, he accepted the call, and the voice of Rocket filled the pod, Peter removed the headphones.

“What the hell do ya’ think you’re doin’, Quill, that pod ain’t yours to take.” 

“It sort of is, it was docked in my ship.” Peter countered, right now he couldn’t be bothered with this.

“The ship that I lived in for five years while you were busy bein’ dead, the one I kept in top condition - it’s as much mine as yours, pal.” Despite the words Rocket used, Peter could tell there was a deeper concern in his voice that stretched far beyond the matter of who owned the ship.

“Yeah, sorry, I forgot about that.” Peter rubbed his face with both hands, his voice dripping in sarcasm, “Keep your hat on, Rocket, I’ll be back soon, and with your precious pod too.”

“Where are ya even goin’? Don’t tell me you’re looking for her again.”

Peter turned his face away. Her. He was speaking about her like she wasn’t his friend - but then, she wasn’t. 

“No.” His voice was flat, “Earth, I need to do something there.”

“Now? You’ve had plenty time to go to Earth and you decided it’s a good idea to sneak off on your own?”

“Not like anything is keeping me on the ship anyways.” His words bite, he doesn’t mean for them to but they do.

There’s a thick silence over the line for a few seconds before Rocket’s voice chimes in again.

“Good luck then, asshole.” The line goes dead.

~~~~

Peter was never that good at geography in school, if you gave him a map of Earth he could probably point out America but that would be it. His craft hovered in orbit, and he made out the familiar shape. He descended at a fast pace through the clouds, knowing exactly where he was going now - but there weren’t a lot of conveniently hidden spaces to park a spaceship on a planet like Earth. 

The pod lands itself in the middle of a forest in Missouri. It’s daytime, and Peter can already feel the humidity through the glass. 

He steps outside, opting to leave his blaster in the ship, and ventures through the forest. He kept in mind that he shouldn’t be far from where he grew up, and it already hurts. He emerges straight onto a relatively empty freeway, something he can vaguely remember, and makes his way across it to the gas station on the other side. 

He walks in, and the eyes of the cashier land on him - he’s making his judgments on Quill, not that he cares much. Peter walks to the counter, swallowing, “This is gonna sound weird, but uh - where are we?”

The cashier shrugs, “You’re right on the edge of St Charles.” 

“Right, thanks.” He half chokes on the words, which he doesn’t understand, he meant to come here. He exits the shop and begins to walk, noticing the sign now, Welcome to St Charles! 

The walk doesn’t take long, he ends up on the Main Street that runs up in a long line complete with an array of shops and amenities on either side. He smiles a little, there was a time when he would have brought Gamora here, but never did - on account of the fact Area 51 might have come along and snatched her up. She always laughed at that. 

He had three things to do here, the first was to visit his old house, the second was to visit his grandfather’s house, and the third was to find his mother’s grave. He swallows thickly and keeps going, his legs tired when he finally reaches the wide road with the dusty pathways either side.

Peter stands by the side of the road in the shade of a willow tree, and notices the tears in his eyes. He remembers walking up these roads with his mother, his hand in hers as she sung all her favourite songs to him - they were his favourites too. 

He walks up the pathway, tripping up on his own feet several times, his body still aches from the beating Gamora gave him on Zen Whoberi. He catches sight of the house, and his heart stops. Someone lives there now, that much is obvious by the trimmed lawn and car parked out front. But it’s the same. The white weatherboards are scrubbed clean as they were all those years ago, and the gabled roof still had the cockerel vane at the front.

Peter leaves before he does anything he regrets.

The walk to his grandfather’s house was a route he had a strange recollection of, it was clear as day to him. The house is right on the end of the street, and Peter sees it immediately. He’s alive. The same old green car Peter never knew the model of is parked outside, and the same bench is on the porch. 

He stops at the foot of the driveway, his heart hammering in his chest and his stomach nauseous. He has family here - he had family on the Benatar - but this was his blood family. He made his way up to the porch, stepping on it quietly, and rang the bell twice. 

His throat is dry, but his eyes are damp. His palms sweat as he waits for the door to open, and blinks with uncertainty as he hears the locks on the door rattle, and finally open.

“You sellin’ something?” His voice is exactly how he remembered it, but his face is older, obviously. Peter never knew how old his grandfather was, but now he looked so frail, but losing your daughter and grandson in one night probably had its effects.

Peter doesn’t say anything for a moment, before stammering out a reply, “No, I - no, I’m not selling anything…”

The door opens a little more, and his eyes stare at Peter, his mouth opening a little, before furrowing his brows and tightening his grip on the door as if to steady himself, “Peter?” 

Peter nods quickly, shutting his mouth before he lets out a cry, or vomits, he’s really not sure what’s about to happen. The man behind the door shoves it open and pulls him into a fierce hug, and to his surprise his grandfather sobs into his shoulder. 

All Peter can hear him say is, “Thirty six years.” He repeats it over and over as he pulls his grandson closer, his tears dampening his shoulder. But Peter cried too, silent and shaking sobs as he held his grandfather, this is the first time he’s been hugged since - well, since he lost Gamora. 

Once they finally step away, he’s ushered inside and sat down on the same sofa he remembers jumping on all those years ago. His grandfather sits across from him in total awe, his eyes still glassy and red from tears. 

“What happened to you?” The older man asks, his hands visibly shaking.

“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.” Peter says regretfully, wringing his hands together nervously. 

His grandfather shakes his head, “I saw - saw you bein’ beamed up like some Star Trek crap, I ran out after you, but you were gone…” Peter is speechless, “I told people, but they said I was crazy from losing-“ He stops talking to press the back of his hand to his mouth to suppress a sob, “Losing Merry.” 

Merry. It hits Peter like a tsunami, that was his grandfather’s nickname for her.

“Stories went around, always do, crazy folks believed me, but most said you were just taken by kidnappers in a van. In time I - I convinced myself that maybe I was seeing things, but then -“ He gestures in a general circle, “Aliens start attackin’ New York, and then o’ course every folk and their dog starts disintegrating, myself included.” His voice goes strange at the end of the sentence, but Peter understands only too well, “Woke up exactly where I was, mowing the lawn. Then they say it’s been five years. So, I started to believe what I saw all those years ago, that you were up there somewhere.”

Peter tells him everything - in excruciatingly specific detail, about the Ravagers, Yondu, Ego - they both take a few minutes to deal with the fact that Ego killed Peter’s mother, and his own daughter, but continues on to tell him about other things, the battle on Xandar, getting arrested, forming the Guardians, holding an infinity stone, fighting Thanos, dying - but he leaves out Gamora until the end, telling him with a heaviness in his voice as he explains the situation.

“...so now there’s a woman out there with the exact same face, body and experiences as my Gamora just before I met her - but it isn’t her...but I feel like I have to help her, because she would want me to, but I don’t know what to do.”

His grandfather sat forward, probably not knowing what the hell he had just said but determined to help him anyways, “Sounds like another chance, Peter.”

“It’s not right,” He shakes his head, “That’s not my Gamora, it feels like I’m just replacing the one I was with for four years - replacing her with a woman who doesn’t care about me, or our friends, what does that say about our relationship if I do that?”

His grandfather shifts in his seat and leans forward, clasping his hands together, “But it is her, surely if she’s the same person she has the same capability to be with you, whether or not she went through all that stuff. And if she loved you, I can tell you - that she’d want you to be happy if there was a chance you could, your grandma, although it ended up with her being the one to...if I died first, I would have wanted her to be with someone who made her happy, and I know she’d want the same.”

“I look at or think about this new Gamora and I don’t know what I feel other than sick, it feels wrong. There’s feelings there but it’s not for her, it’s for what she would be - what she should have been. I don’t want her, I want my girl.”

His grandfather gives him a knowing look, “Then don’t try to follow her, let her go. You can move on and still love your girl at the same time, honour her memory by living, rather than chasing a version of her who doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

The words resonate, and they make sense. He doesn’t love this Gamora, he feels uneasy knowing she’s out there. And with that he makes his choice to move on, his next challenge to come to terms with accepting he’s lost the love of his life forever. 

~~~~ 

Peter spends the night there, after a few beers he collapses onto the spare bedroom on the top floor, the humid Missouri heat still lingering even at night. He hears his grandfather shuffle around downstairs, and Peter turns on his side, the bed soft beneath him. 

He wants to sleep for once, because he wants to see her. The Gamora he loved. Maybe it’s the drink, or the exhaustion, but he drifts off thinking about her, dampening the embroidered pillow beneath his head with tears. 

In the morning he wakes to the smell of something frying, but he’s not sure what. He rises from the bed and moves downstairs, still dressed in the same clothes as before. His grandfather is dishing up piles of what looks like bacon onto two plates, something he hasn’t had in thirty six years. “Mornin’, Pete.” The smile on the older man’s face is warm and familiar, and Peter takes a seat at the table by the kitchen. He remembers this well.

They eat and talk at the same time, sharing stories of the years they missed each other in, it’s good. As they finish, his grandfather looks at him with a sad smile, “You’ll be going back, won’t you.” Peter says nothing for a moment and picks up his coffee, “I have to, I’ll definitely come back, believe me.” He meets his grandfather’s eyes, before getting an idea, “You could come with me, if you wanted.”

His grandfather rubs the unevenly trimmed beard on his face, “I can’t leave your Mom, or your Grandma, and someone’s gotta take care of their flowers.” He chuckles lightly, “Maybe one day, sport, but up there? That’s your world, or galaxy I should say.”

“I understand.” Peter half smiles, he can’t quite detach himself from the newfound idea of showing his grandfather his life. 

“Do you want to see her?” 

“Yes.”

~~~~

The cemetery is on the outskirts of town, up on a hill, right in the sun. It was a beautiful spot. They park the rickety old car at the base of the hill, it’s not particularly steep, but his grandfather insists on staying with the car because of his bad back - but Peter suspects it’s because he wants to give him time alone.

He arrives at the top, instantly spotting her name engraved in one of the tombstones, and he swallows hard, his grip on the flowers they picked from the garden tightens. 

Peter walks to it, close to losing his footing as he stands over the grave, Meredith Quill, 1958 - 1988. For some reason he can’t quite believe this is real, and he sits down shakily by her grave, gently placing the flowers on the grass. 

“I’m not sure what to say, because you already know everything I could say.” He says, his voice small, “I should have taken your hand, I’m sorry I didn’t, I wanted to - I did, but I’m just sorry.” He falls silent for a few moments, “You’ve always been here, with me - thank you for that, Mom. I love you.” That's the first time he’s said those words to anyone since Gamora. He wipes away the tears that won’t stop coming, and looks at the stone, “For all the shitty things that are happening right now, I’ve had a good life because of you.”

Leaving his mother’s grave was something that Peter would never forget.


	4. Chapter 4

Gamora doesn’t sleep, she’s lucky to drift off for an hour or so sometimes, but nothing more than that. She catches sight of herself in the mirrors of the bathroom in her ship, and notices the changes. 

Her cheeks are even more hollow, and her eyes don’t quite focus just right. The clothes specially tailored to fit tightly and assist in combat hang off her now, so she switched them in favour of clothes she found on the ship already. Gamora runs the tap, leaning against the sink, wincing as the pain in her side flares up. She ran a scan on herself after escaping her planet, and found she’d broken two ribs after hitting the roof.

She scrubs her face with the cold water, the dirt stuck to her skin coming away easily. Gamora doesn’t bother drying her face as she trails towards the singular bedroom with four bunks inside. She lowers herself into the bunk, careful not to lie on her bad side.

Gamora opts to lie on her back, one leg bent upwards and her arms crossed protectively over her front, an instinct she had should she be attacked - not that she would be here. 

Falling asleep doesn’t take long, her breathing becomes shallow as the weight of sleep presses her eyes shut even further. But then her eyes jolt open, and she sits up. But Gamora isn’t in her bunk, or on the ship, and the pain in her side is gone.

She sits in a shallow lake, a glowing object in her hand. Gamora’s eyes fixate on it as she uncurls her hand around it, and knows instantly what it is, “The soul stone.” She murmurs, unable to take her eyes away - that is until she hears the sound of water rippling behind her. Gamora turns her head quickly, before finding herself standing upright, no longer in the lake - but at the base of an enormous looming cliff.

Her eyes land on herself, a Gamora standing opposite her. She looks older, and she’s dressed differently - her eyes are sad as she stares at her counterpart.

“Nebula told me this is how I - how you died.” Gamora speaks first, stepping backwards a little as the bitter wind picks up around them, blowing light snow into the two women, “Thanos murdered you here for the stone.”

The other woman simply nods, looking upwards at the top of the cliff, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Gamora observes her briefly before looking up in the same direction. 

Gamora bites her lip slightly, and looks back at herself, and finds that she’s moved a lot closer. Her eyes meet her own, and she considers how much kinder she looks. 

“Let them help you.” The other Gamora says, her voice gentle. 

“I don’t know them.” Gamora shakes her head, furrowing her brows, “You and I aren’t the same, I cannot pretend I’m you.”

The corner of the other Gamora’s mouth flickers upwards, “You are me, you wouldn’t be pretending. I can remember being just like you, afraid and angry. But you have a choice not to be alone.”

“I’m not you, and I won’t have Quill look at me like I am you - I do not belong here or with them.”

The other Gamora’s face shifts at the mention of his name, and her eyes flicker downwards, Gamora continues speaking, “Nebula says you loved him, that the Guardians are your family.”

The other Gamora keeps her eyes on the ground, her lips parting slightly as if she were to speak, before she finally looks back up at herself, “I love him even now, I won’t ever stop, but the arrangement of my death means I am gone forever - but there is still hope when you’re here, we will both live through you - they don’t have to mourn me, Peter doesn’t have to.”

Gamora says nothing, pressing her lips together in silence, the other Gamora slowly takes her hands, “You belong with them.” Her voice is affirming, as if she couldn't be more sure of anything in her life. 

Gamora frowns, feeling a light tracing feeling in her hands, she looks down and notices the finger of the other Gamora tracing coordinates onto her hand, as if ink was bleeding from her finger.

“Why?” Gamora asks, not pulling her hand away.

“You need to understand why you’re here, why you need to be. You will find the answers you need here.” 

She lets go of her hands abruptly, and Gamora feels herself being pulled backwards, like being pulled from water. The world around her goes dark, and the Gamora in front of her disappears.

She awakes with a jolt, the pain in her side flaring up as Gamora grits her teeth and sits up, the bunk creaking beneath her. She mutters the coordinates under her breath, but feels them fading. She runs out of the sleeping quarters, knowing she was doing no favours for her ribs, and punches in the coordinates for her destination, sitting back in the pilot’s chair with a groan.

The ship moves quickly, and Gamora realises where she is going. Vormir. She catches her breath and slinks down further in her seat, she destroyed the map to that place to avoid ever going there - and to stop Thanos from ever getting there. But there was no threat, aside from the thought that this was her final resting place, that the body of the woman she spoke to in her dream met her end screaming as she fell to her death. 

When she arrives, Vormir looks no different than what she saw in her dream. The sky was a deepish purple and blue, the colour of night, and the snow falls steadily - but never settles. 

Making her way up the mountain is easy enough, her body modifications fight the bitter coldness of the mountain, and keep her legs moving despite her mind disagreeing with this whole operation. When she reaches the top, she feels a sickening sense of déjà vu, and instincts cause a stray hand to drift over the hilt of Godslayer. 

“Gamora, daughter of Thanos.” 

A voice that drifts between the two looming structures extending from the top of the mountain causes Gamora to unsheathe Godslayer, pointing it towards the figure gliding across the ground.

Her face shows no reaction, and her eyes fixate on the deep red and skeletal face of the figure, who observes her with a considerable amount of interest, “Your presence here is most unusual.” He says, his voice little more than a slight rasp.

Gamora slowly walks forward, still with her weapon raised and ready to swing if necessary, she drags her eyes away from the hooded figure, and stands by the edge of the cliff. Her stomach drops, and her palms sweat. She readjusts her grip on her sword. 

Gamora closes her eyes momentarily, and feels the fleeting sensation of a much larger and stronger hand close around her arm, and feels the ground come away beneath her, and the rush of the air envelops her body as she plummets. 

Her eyes snap open, and finds she is still standing there at the edge, Godslayer in her hands. Gamora breathes heavily, her chest constricting as she turns to face the figure, “How can I feel how she died?” 

The figure remains silent, the ends of his cloak brush the ground lightly, it’s then she notices he isn’t even standing. “Your minds remain connected, but the connection is strongest here - as the same soul rests in one place.”

“She’s here?”

“In spirit, yes. The soul demands a sacrifice, an everlasting exchange. The essence of Gamora will be here forever.” His voice deadpans, and he turns his face away to move towards the edge.

“Then your exchange is foolish,” Gamora snaps, sheathing her weapon, “It has been cheated, I am still here.”

“Was it not you to refer to yourself, as ‘she’, as though she were not you?”

Gamora is stunted, because he is correct. She didn’t see this woman as herself, because she was missing out four years worth of memories and experiences that made them different. The Gamora that stood on the edge of the cliff was the version that never got the chance to be better.

“I do not have her memories.” She says, her voice shrinking slightly.

“But you share her soul, something far more valuable than experience.”

Gamora feels a calm wave of peace rush over her in that moment, and a steady exhale tells her that what she’s about to say next to this figure she is content with, “Would it be viable to replace her soul with mine, stonekeeper, it is the same soul, the same sacrifice is made. I have no place in this time, no purpose, I do not wish to continue my journey here - but I - she should, I am willing to give her that chance.” Maybe this was what the Gamora in her dream was trying to tell her, that this was what she was meant to do.

“Liebchen, the nobility of your words prove fruitless, the exchange has been made, the stone used, she is bound to this place for eternity, bound to the stone.” There’s an unmistakable sound of regret in his voice.

Gamora exhales and looks down from the immense height, and for a split second - she can see herself. She’s lying at the base of the cliff, in the exact same place the two of them had stood in her dream. Her limbs are bent awkwardly and blood blossoms from her head slowly. But as soon as she blinks hard, the apparition is gone.

“I don’t belong here. There isn’t a single place in this universe where I belong.” Gamora grits her teeth, distressed. For the first time in a year, she panics. She’s an imposter here, an anomaly that shouldn’t be. 

“You are here for a reason, as every being is. There was a plan laid out for each of us, but yours has brought you to another time. The belonging you seek must be sought out, it is hidden in plain sight. You see it yet you chose to be ignorant.”

“I am not,” Gamora turned, unsheathing Godslayer and pointing the tip of the sword at the throat of the figure, who seemed unfazed, “Ignorant.” Her ragged breathing is the only thing she hears, “She said I’d find answers here - but all you’ve given me nothing of use.” Gamora retracted the sword and put it back on her hip, turning to walk back down the mountain. 

“This universe is yours as much as hers.”


	5. Chapter 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i’m so sorry about this and it’s been so long

CHAPTER 5

Peter stayed on Earth for several more days after greeting his grandfather. He attempted to convince him to join him again, but the two of them knew that it wasn’t going to happen. He drove him out to the woods where he landed, parking the car just outside the trees.

The car engine died out, and his grandfather swallowed thickly, turning his head to look at his grandson, “Promise me you’ll help yourself, if you loved that girl, she’d want you to move on too.” His hand tightened on the wheel. 

Peter’s jaw clenched momentarily, before letting go and nodding, “I’ll try, I will.” 

The two exited the vehicle and stood by the hood. His grandfather reached into his pocket, “You should have this, Pete.” In his hand was a picture of Meredith, young - smiling, her arms wrapped around a young Peter who smiled a wide and toothy grin at the camera.

Peter took the picture with trembling hands, holding it delicately as if he were scared it would turn to ash in his hands. “Thank you, gramps.” His words caught in his throat, and his grandfather pulled him in for a strong goodbye hug. 

The journey back to the pod and back to the region of the space the Benatar is in takes a few hours, but Peter doesn’t sleep through them. He plays his zune out loud, staring at the picture of his mother - it occurs to him this is the first time he’s seen her face since 1988, aside from whatever bullshit statues Ego showed him on his planet.

The pod docks itself with an uneven jolt into the Benatar, and Peter stands up, switching off the engine and exiting the craft, greeted immediately by Mantis.

“Welcome back, Peter. Rocket told me to tell you that you’re on dinner duty for the next week because you’re a total D-hole!” She smiles innocently, each of the Guardians couldn’t help but smile at her when she spoke - well, maybe aside from Drax who found whatever she said exceedingly hilarious when he mocked her. 

Peter mumbles a brief hello and shuts himself back in his quarters, not interested in finding anyone else. He throws the bag on the bed, right onto her side. And sits down on his side, his head in his hands - before letting his hands fall to pull the picture from his pocket and place it inside the bedside locker. 

His eyes are red raw from tears that he couldn’t hold back, and his breathing is shaky. He’s not sure who he is grieving for, until he catches sight of her side of the bed. He doesn’t even want to think about her name. 

He could finally start grieving, Peter had spent the last year tirelessly searching on false hope, looking for any chance that he could be made whole again. But he knew now that he was going to have to live the rest of his life without her - however long that was going to be. 

So he let himself cry, he let himself lie down on the bed, and sob silently into the pillow, his body shaking uncontrollably as he mouthed her name. This wasn’t fair, it shouldn’t have been her, but it was. He wonders what she felt in her final moments, the fear, the panic, the pain and the betrayal. He can’t help but wonder if she expected him to turn up on Vormir guns ablaze to save her - though it was usually the other way around. The one time she needed him.

None of them knew what was on Vormir until Nebula told them, after another person died for that stone. The horrible, plunging death that would have left it’s victim as nothing more than a broken smudge on the cold ground below, the essence of their person trapped there forever. He had to see for himself, he had to. Before he could control his body, he had moved from the bed where he had begun to sink into, and headed through the open doors to the cockpit - which was empty. Leaning over the console, he hung his head - realising that once again, he had no idea how to get there - how to get to her. 

“I know the coordinates.” The chilling semi robotic voice of Nebula streamed through the air, causing Peter to jolt slightly and exclaim quietly in surprise.

“What?”

“To Vormir.” Her words are clipped, as though she’s trying to spit them out as quickly as possible, “You’re as easy to read as a book for children, even a fool could see that you are yearning to go there.” Nebula moves past him, forcibly removing the man from the console as she sits down, beginning to lay in coordinates.

“Thanks, I guess? Any reason you’re helping me?” Peter mumbled, slinking down into a chair diagonal to Nebula, his eyes peering over her shoulder as her fingers glided skilfully over the control panel. She paused momentarily, the subtle shift in her face evident as she considers her answer, “You have many shortcomings, Peter Quill, ones that for whatever bizarre reason my sister - loved.” The two fell into silence for a brief moment, “But despite those, I have grown to consider you a friend.” Nebula added quickly, before her face fell back into it’s blank composure as the ship smoothly moved forward, picking up speed as they headed for their destination.

Peter guessed everyone was full of surprises now as the corner of his mouth curved upwards. 

—————

The first thing Peter notes about Vormir is how cold it is. 

But instead of worrying about the cold for himself, he worries about how cold and uncomfortable Gamora would have been. She always insisted her body mods kept her warm - but he had noticed on several occasions how she’d shiver occasionally, and step closer to him. Even now, if he tried hard enough, he could almost feel her - but she wasn’t here anymore. 

Nebula joins him outside the ship as the others sleep inside, unknowing of their location. And the two walk in silence towards the enormous mountain in their view. The wind howling as the snow batters them in an unyielding attack. It takes Peter longer to climb than Nebula, who effortlessly scales the flatter parts of the rock - which Peter suspects she does just to show off as he wheezes and huffs his way up the slopes. 

And then they reach the top - and Peter swears he can feel his heart stop. 

The walkway to the edge is long, and the glow from the reddish purple sun lights it just enough to highlight engraved lines in the rock. 

This is where she died. And this is where his life ended. 

Peter clenches his fists so tightly his nails draw blood from his palm, and even Nebula notices, but continues to linger in the shadows - unable, or unwilling to go any further. But Peter does, to his own surprise, and slowly walks to the edge, stopping abruptly as the cloaked figure moves towards him.

His eyes catch sight of blood red skin and a skeletal like appearance beneath the shadow of his hood, and Peter feels his stomach drop a little. But he scolded himself, how dare he be afraid, when this was where she met her end. 

“Bring her back.” He whispers, his voice shaking.

The figure doesn’t answer, and Nebula tilts her head, hearing his whispers from afar with ease. 

“I said bring her back, you son of a bitch!” He suddenly screams, drawing his blaster and aiming it at the figure, his breathing ragged as tears burst from his eyes. Even in his peripheral vision he doesn’t see Nebula move from the shadows.

“I cannot. The exchange is everlasting, Gamora, Daughter of Thanos was the price of the stone.” The creature replies, and Peter’s brows furrow as he swears it speaks in a f**cking German accent. 

“Yeah?” Peter says breathlessly, “Well, I want a goddamn refund. She was murdered, and you’re gonna bring her back right now or I’m gonna blast your head clean off.” 

“It can’t be undone.” Suddenly Nebula is there, standing just close enough to be in arms reach of the blaster aiming at the figure - who still hasn’t moved an inch, “The Stone was used.”

The figure’s eyes shifted, “The Stone demanded a sacrifice to determine the worthiness of it’s finder, something they’d be prepared to part with for eternity.” It speaks calmly - but Peter is bordering on hysterics, “I wasn’t prepared. I WASN’T PREPARED!” He screams, “I DIDN’T WANT TO LOSE HER! I DIDN’T MAKE THE SACRIFICE!” 

He fires the blast, but it goes straight through the face of the figure, and with a swirl of blackness, it disappears. Peter doesn’t know where it went, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything. Nebula watches him, her black eyes wide as she observes his breakdown - and it’s hard to tell if she truly cares or not. Peter slides the blast gun back into his holster, struggling to take in a breath, his eyes shimmering through tears as he turns to face the chasm below.

But before he can fall forward, to his death - to her. A swift blow to the back of the head knocks him out cold. 

————

Nebula is strong, physically, mentally, in every way. But if her own life has been what she had willed it to be, she wouldn’t need to be strong all the time. Learning to accept Gamora as a sister, and not the enemy took a lot - but to Nebula, it was her greatest achievement. But then she was lost, taken by the man who had taken everything from the two girls at one point. All he ever did was take.

She had time to move on, to mourn, and accept that her journey must continue, even if she was stuck on the Benatar with that rodent she had grown to be somewhat fond of. 

On the top of Vormir, she watched with intense curiosity as Quill turned to meet his end - which was something Nebula couldn’t allow. He wouldn’t allow Gamora’s memory to be dishonoured by him wasting his second chance, the one Nebula had seen good people die for. After dragging the unconscious Terran back to the ship, Nebula studied his unconscious face curiousy, and failed to see what Gamora did. The Luphomoid shook her head, before turning to set coordinates to get off of this planet, her eyes caught sight of the doors to the escape pod in the window of the ship. 

She could find her. She knew how to track her sister down. 

After setting the ship on autopilot as they drifted through space, Nebula stalked past the still limp figure of Quill as she made her way to the ship, her mind set on what she was going to do. Find Gamora, bring her back, fix this mess once and for all.


End file.
